


The Moon Tower Secret

by SoHereWeAre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother/Sister Incest, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Deception, Dirty Talk, Excessive Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden Love, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Incest, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, Missionary Position, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Out of Character, Passion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resentment, Robb Lives, Robbsa, Seduction, Sibling Incest, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Wedding Night, just go with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-10-04 16:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17308025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoHereWeAre/pseuds/SoHereWeAre
Summary: Alayne Stone is revealed to be Sansa Stark as she marries Harrold  Hardyng after SweetRobin's death. The purpose is to seduce Harry into securing his support, the Vale, and its Army along with what is left of Robb’s loyal men in a plan to retake Winterfell.However, Sansa has other intentions on her wedding night as she invites Robb into her bed to take her maidenhead, deeming "Harry the Arse" too unworthy. She just doesn’t plan for what happens afterwards when unexpected feelings and pleasures grow between her and her new husband.Heed the tags. Both pairings are tagged because both pairings happen.Canon Divergence: Robb lives. Because he can. ;)





	1. Lord and Lady Of The Eyrie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansafeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansafeels/gifts).



> Thank you to sansafeels who gave me this idea after I dropped the other fic I started like a hot potato. This one is more to my taste because I think the idea of Harry is hot (as long as Sansa straightens his rude bastard-making arse out). I blame the idea of Bradley James as the embodiment of what Harrold Harding would look like.

"So Lord Harrold Arryn, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie, is now a blissfully wedded husband. There he sits, drowning in his cups as I dance with his beautiful bride who is loved and adored by all."

"Aye, he is a happy man. How could he not be? With young Lord Robert's death, he not only acquired the Vale but also found out the bastard Alayne was none other than Lady Sansa Stark. How eager my suitor was for our union! Although, he was willing enough already after I was able to charm him as the lowly bastard of the hated Lord Baelish."

Sansa let her dance partner twirl her around, her half-red hair shining in the torch lights. The second half of her long locks remained dark brown, the only remnants of her faux bastardy. She knew she was a vision in her blue velvet wedding gown with white piping, a nod to the colors of House Arryn and the Vale. Diamonds glittering in a small tiara on her head and at her throat; gifts from Littlefinger and Harry. Her companion's auburn hair shone as well but he sported the Stark colors of dark grey and white. He represented their House, a House thought to be broken but now would emerge stronger than ever and ready to take back what was rightfully theirs.

"You could charm anyone, my dear sister." He pulled her close, a brother's privilege that others dared not attempt through the rows of dances tonight. "Even the philandering Young Falcon with two known bastards is enamored."

"Oh, Harry knows his cock is mine only." She whispered it softly, leaning in to his bowed head." He will get no more bastards on any woman as long as I am his wife."

"And can Harry say the same for your cunt?" He drawled the words low, not that it mattered. The music was loud as were the guests, all boisterous in their drunken revelry. 

Sansa did not answer. Instead she smiled sweetly and glanced over to her new husband. Tall, muscled, handsome Harry Hardyng, his sandy hair tousled, his blue eyes not as dark as her own but still sparkling with a cocky, self-assured glint as she met his gaze. Harry The Arse. She had accomplished what Littlefinger instructed her to do; entice him, bewitch him, keep him interested until such a time where Lord Robert was no longer an issue and her marriage to Tyrion Lannister could be declared invalid. She could entice anyone now, that was true; she was already confident in her newfound abilities when her brother arrived at the Vale destitute, broken, defeated, and narrowly escaping death himself. Robb Stark, The Young Wolf, lacking in support and men and strategy. Her anger at him gave way to a strange passion; something ignited in her and she kept Robb in the Vale despite Baelish's protests. It had been easy to put Petyr in his place when she informed him either Robb stayed or she would refuse to marry. Her brother became her prisoner. It was a delicious feeling of power over him and he, finding out Jeyne had perished, had gone to her for comfort as he once did with Jeyne and the irony was not lost on Sansa. Still, she did not let him take her maidenhead; she was not stupid. Her marriage to Tyrion was invalidated based on non-consummation and she was to become Harry's wife. They would need evidence of a broken maidenhead. Blood on plain white bed sheets would be imperative to signify her loss of virginity and Robb could not risk endangering that in a flash of unchecked passion.

Sansa had found out quickly how pleasures of the flesh could break down resolve; having never experience such pleasure before, the feelings were overwhelming and she all but surrendered her maidenhead to her own brother. She had never allowed more than a few chaste kisses with Harry and a couple of touches on her neck and breasts. With Robb, it was the familiarity intermingled with love and long lost affection but spiced with estrangement and pain; it made for an intoxicating experience and she could not deny his touches made her wet with longing. 

It was in a moment of passion, when his fingers brought her off - though he dared not insert them, he contented himself with rubbing her to a sweet climax - that she promised him her maidenhead. Harry did not deserve it. Harry, who cared not that he had fathered two bastards, who thought very little of her when he first met her, whom she did not love. She could not stomach the thought of him robbing her of something so sacred and intimate, but when she thought of Robb shoving his cock inside of her and making her bleed and cum at the same time, her legs trembled and her center throbbed in anticipation.

Even now, her pretty smile and nod to her husband hid the fact that just remembering Robb's hot breathy demands whispered on her half-bared breasts and his knowing hand between her legs was making her dampen her smallclothes underneath her wedding gown. Silly little Harry. Handsome, yes, but so pliable in her small, slender hands. She could lead him around by his nose and bend him to her will and that was exactly what she was going to do. Now that they had the Vale there was a large army at her disposal...and they were going to reclaim Winterfell.

Still, those plans were set aside, at least for tonight. 

A squeeze of a strong, possessive hand at her waist drew her attention back to Robb. His eyes snapped with fire and his sensual mouth formed a tight smile. 

"I grow tired of dancing, sweet sister. Are you so hesitant to retire to your wedding bed?" There was impatience in his voice even as it was thick with lust and longing.

His other hand slipped inside his dark grey coat before clasping her hand. She felt a tiny vial slip into her palm, cool against her skin and she smiled gently before planting a perfect, sisterly kiss on his cheek. He timed his action beautifully as the song ended and Sansa reluctantly pulled away with a small curtsy to Robb's grand bow. She scurried over to the dais where Harry was clapping and leaned over into him to kiss his ear; the shock distracted him long enough for her to empty the contents into his cup, her hand partially obscured by the long hanging sleeve of her gown.

"My love, I just cannot wait any longer. Let us have a final toast and be done with this. Our night together awaits."

As intended, Harry's face grew taut with desire as he hastily pounded on the table. Everyone grew silent as he raised his cup in the air. He looked every inch a Lord and he did look resplendent in his wedding attire, blue with white to match her gown.

"My guests, my Lady wife has asked us to retire. She grows weary of the dancing but not of her husband." Laughter erupted. "There will be no public bedding. The Moon Tower is off limits to all guests and residents alike. Lady Sansa and I insist you continue the celebration of our union while we partake in other revelries."

The Sansa of old would have blushed and nearly sink to the floor in embarrassment but she only smiled as she raised her glass and drank as her husband followed suit, her eyes roving over the crowd to find Robb nowhere in the sea of people. Her little plan of begging Harry beforehand for a private bedding of just the two of them worked; Harry was nothing if not malleable and it appealed to his vanity that Sansa wanted no one but him to see her stripped and lying in bed.

Well, no one but him and Robb.

She couldn't help but squeal in surprise as Harry abruptly stood, kicking back his chair to scoop her up and throw her over his shoulder. She half expected him to slap her on her arse but he did not; still her shock and his efforts made the crowd roar with drunken approval. Sansa could hear his boots scuffling as she was carried away, and she hoped he would stay alert enough to make it to the solar without dropping her. She wanted to protest but she smiled instead. He was taking her to Robb, and that was enough for her to tolerate such boorish behavior.


	2. No One The Wiser

Harry safely set her on her feet once the door to Lord Jon Arryn's old solar was shut and bolted for good measure. The Moon Tower was far enough away from the wedding celebration that a stillness hung over the room; well, it was their room now. Something in her stomach tightened when her stumbling husband made his way back to her, catching her from behind and breathing heavily into her hair.

"You did not even want your maid in here to help you undress, Sansa. That was not very well thought out." His hands clumsily fumbled to the back of her gown where the tiny sapphire buttons held the bodice of her dress tight against her form. "I suppose I need to take on the lowly task and work for your favors."

"Would you be so in a rush for this night?" She pulled away from him and turned to survey how far gone he was. 

"Aye, I am impatient. You've led me in a teasing dance for one too many moons, forcing me to live as a gelded man. Now you are my wife and there is no need for the torture."

Sansa raised her eyebrows as Harry stripped off his coat and tossed the finery to the floor as if it were an old ratty rag. His plain white linen shirt was quickly becoming untied, showing his muscled, nearly hairless chest.

"My Lord husband, perhaps you can do the honor of letting me discover my husband's body?" She appealed to his vanity as always. It was working as his lips drew a lazy smile while a hand skimmed through his sandy hair. "Might you lie on our bed? The servants have already turned the covers down for us."

Indeed, as she grabbed his hand to lead him to the side of their canopied bed, the dark blue velvet coverings were turned down and the important white sheets were exposed. The pillows of blue matched the blue and white drapes surrounding the bed, pulled back by ties of white. The solar itself was gorgeous with its ornately carved hearth and walls. The tapers lit cast a lovely light around their surroundings and the moonlight peeked through the window where one could peer out and see the Mountains Of The Moon. To the right of the window was a tall, wide privacy screen in cedar adorned with engraved falcons. She had requested it for decorum's sake; a place to disrobe before bed. Though the people of the Eyrie have made her feel welcome, this was not home and this would never be her bed chambers. She would have preferred to be married in the Godswood in Winterfell and to give her maidenhead upon her own bed.

Harry tumbled into the cavernous bed, flopping onto his back, his legs sprawled out and his hands behind his head. It was as if he were the prize to be taken and Sansa was tempted to call him out on his egocentric display but instead she heard Baelish's cool drawl in her head: _Charm him. Bewitch him_. Here she was only playing for time so once again she slipped into her role of Alayne as she smirked, leaning over to rid him of his boots.

"I may be a maiden, but I know men should not make love with their boots on. Well, unless a man corners a serving wench or a spice merchant's daughter." She could not resist the jape at Harry's conquests and wondered why she constantly felt annoyed by them. They happened before her and she knew so far Harry remained faithful, even though she knew it surely would not last. 

"It is rather comely that my Lady wife is so jealous. I daresay I liked not any man who danced with you tonight while I did my duty at the table listening to the Lords. But now is no time for talk of long-forgotten wenches or long-winded Lords." He yanked his shirt off and unlaced his breeches, staring at his fingers as if it took much concentration to do such a simple task.

"Oh, I agree." Sansa crept onto the bed, slithering up between his legs, letting her hair fall forward. She pulled his breeches down and away, amused to discover he wore no smallclothes. Below a thatch of fine light brown pubic hair, his limp cock flopped to the side. It was long and angular, almost too pale and smooth. "Shall I undress for you now?"

Harry looked at her through half-lidded eyes and nodded haphazardly before closing them entirely, his face growing slack and his head falling back into the pillows. Sansa sighed a tiny breath of relief. 

"Harry?"

There was nothing from the man as he laid immobile on his back. Cautiously Sansa moved further up to make sure he was breathing and was relieved to find him still alive. One always took caution with overdoses.

"Harry!" Her voice was loud now, sharp, and her hand reached out to shake his arm. "HARRY!"

Satisfied, she sat back on her haunches and stared down at her husband, a small thread of regret running through her. It lasted only a few moments until she was suddenly tackled from behind as Robb rushed onto the bed, snatching her by the waist to drag her away from Harry and over on top of him on the other side of the bed. She gasped out in surprise and squirmed to right herself so that she straddled him, her nails digging into his bared chest. He was completely naked. For the first time she could appreciate his body in its entirety as she let her hands twirl in his chest hair before he reached up to pull her head down for a kiss. It was a forceful one, not like his usually controlled self. Perhaps he was worried they didn't have much time... and indeed, she wasn't sure how long Harry would be out.

"Robb!" She broke away, whispering. "This won't do -"

"No, it won't," he growled low, before grabbing her again by the waist to flip her over. He was looming over her, his broad shoulders so tempting as she reached up to clasp her hold onto him there, letting her fingers of her right hand trace around and up his neck to his bearded scruff. She wanted to pull him to her in a kiss but she hesitated, turning her head to her left to look at Harry. He looked peaceful in his drug-induced sleep, and none the wiser that his brother-in-law was in bed with his virginal wife, ready to stake his claim on her and take her innocence. Guilt crept in but so did desire as Robb swept in to nip at her neck while a hand pushed up her skirts to seek out her smallclothes and slipped inside, his fingers finding her sweet spot.

"Gods, Sansa, already wet." His lips sucked hard into her neck, causing a small tickle of something close to pain but more near to pleasure. "Tell me, did it arouse you knowing I was behind your dressing screen, waiting for this?"

He didn't wait for a reply and she couldn't give him one. Instead she met his lips with hers once again. Robb was a masterful kisser; his full, sensuous lips and slow tongue did things to her she never dreamed of but she felt it to the tip of her toes. He made her weak instead of strong, made her lose her wits instead of staying in control. He may have been her captive here but he owned her heart and he knew it. Two fierce wolves, trying to find their way through this horror of bloodshed and betrayal, perfectly matched as a unit but destined to never be together. It was only the latest of disappointment and sorrow in her life and she thought she could bear it; what was one more, really? Yet as he stopped rubbing her to flip her over on her stomach and reach back under her skirts to pull her underthings off, she knew this was one loss she did not want to bear.

Hot and nimble fingers made short work of her buttons, loosening her wedding gown down to the swell of her arse. Without a cincher there was nothing under her gown and lips and tongue met her back, leaving damp and delicate patterns traced on her skin. He was slow, teasing, deliberate, and she whimpered into her pillow, thankful for the loose flowing style of gown. His hands were tugging at the top of her gown, pulling the sleeves off her shoulders, pushing her hair to the side to kiss the curve of her neck.There was something primal about him hovering over her, his hardened body pressing into her from behind. For one delicious,wild moment she thought he meant to take her like that but he flipped her again to her back, grabbing the gown easily now with both hands and nearly tearing it down and off her body in one fell swoop.

"Sansa."

For the first time, she lay beneath him completely exposed, and she blushed as he stared down at her, drinking her in. His voice was the softest yet the most urgent she'd ever heard it to be and even in the dim light she could see the love and lust in his eyes. She surveyed him as well, leaning up to caress his battle scars. Her brother, the only man she really loved. Who else could love her, and who else could she love?

Before she could say something, he pulled her up into his lap and into his arms. Sitting in his lap was both oddly comforting and sensual and she was acutely aware of his thick cock pressed against her belly. She leaned in to kiss him, loving the feeling of her body flush against his. It was then she realized her tiara was still secured in her hair and the diamonds glittered at her throat. Robb emitted a low growl but did not stop kissing her as he unclasped her necklace and fumbled with her headpiece. Tiny stands of her hair and caught in it but she reached up and tore it from her head, flinging it to the floor along with her necklace. Baubles from two men she cared little for; symbols of their conditional affections.

Again she went down onto the mattress, this time entwining her limbs with his, wrapping her long legs around his waist. She was ready for him to enter her but she worriedly glanced over to Harry, tensing. If he woke up now -

"No, look at me, Sansa. I'm the one who is going to be your first, not him." His words made her eyes tear away to look at him. Her mouth suddenly went dry as he slid down her body. "There might be another man in this bed with us, but I am the one who will make you peak before I fuck your maiden cunt."

His wicked words alone and the way he said them made her want to peak right then and there. She wanted him to say more naughty things but what he did next took her mind off of any filthy talk.

Oh gods, his fingers have pleasured her before but it was nothing compared to the feel of his tongue and she moaned a little too loudly when she felt the first long lick into her folds. Afraid he would stop, her hands found their way to his head of wavy locks to grip there, holding his head to her. He worked her clit with an urgency she did not understand but nothing mattered other than the feeling of his wet tongue and lips taking her to a frighteningly fast orgasm. She bit her lip hard to stop from crying out to him as she pulsed, her climax shaking her to her core, the wetness surging from her straight to his willing mouth. Even as she came down from the feeling, his beard scratched her thighs pleasantly as he kissed over her mound before pressing his cheek into her triangle of red curls. Maybe Harry would stay out for hours and she could savor this again and again...

"Sansa," he gasped, his mouth lazily starting to kiss upwards to her belly button, his hands following as he pulled himself upwards again.

"Robb." Her breathing wasn't regulated yet and she still remained in a euphoric state. Her arms wrapped around him as his tongue painted swirls around her rib cage and up between her breasts before sucking lightly on each nipple. He abandoned her breasts too soon with this mouth travelling up her neck to her ear, but his hands made up for the loss.

"Can you imagine our babe suckling here?" His fingers smoothed over her hardened pink tips as she shivered in a sinful delight at his words. "Heir to the Vale and Eyrie. No one the wiser."

"Robb, please." She was near to crying, but from what she was unsure. His cock was hot and ready, pressed into her apex and she could feel wetness from the tip.

"I fear I must hurt you, love. I will try to be as gentle as I can. Think of how I will fill you with my seed, how it will take root and you will bear our child, not his. Never his."

"Robb -"

"Shhh. Let me have this, at least. Let me have this. I love you, Sansa."

He reared up then to stare down into her eyes and as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist she locked her gaze with his; Harry next to them was forgotten. It was just the two of them in the bed and and Robb pushed inside of her slowly, she nearly drowned in the intensity of the new sensation that tore through her as he carefully broke her barrier, hurting her but in such a glorious way that she embraced it. She smashed her lips together and felt tears forming in her eyes while Robb's face turned from blazing lust to tenderness and apologies. Trembling fingertips brushed away her tears followed by kisses raining down on her cheeks, nose, lips, forehead; light but frantic. He moved carefully, his thrusts steady but considerate. He was so thick inside of her she couldn't move, couldn't hardly breathe. Yet something else emerged; a dim sense of fulfillment and pleasure intermixing with the pain and she tilted her hips up, letting out a low hiss when Robb involuntarily went deeper. She could feel more wetness beneath her and wondered if there was blood now on the sheets and she could smell the scent of their lovemaking.

"Robb, please." She smashed her cheek against his, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

"I can stop," he offered haltingly. "I can stop. I've already opened you -"

"No, please. Please spill in me." She clung to him harder. "If I am to get with child on this night, let it be yours."

It was enough to spur Robb on and it didn't take long for him to thrust harder, faster. Sansa gritted her teeth but embraced his frantic fucking while his hand wedged down in between their bodies to find her nub. Slick, hot, sweaty, but sensitive, Sansa sought the pleasure through the hurt...oh, the slight hurt, lessening already in favor of another climax. Despite the unpleasant feeling she knew she could cum again so she chased it, fought for it, and was rewarded with the buildup and with Robb's own climax. The warmth poured into her and his cock throbbed while she peaked. Nails scraped deep lines into his shoulder blades in lieu of crying out her affirmation and he gasped while leaning in to roughly capture her lips with this. Flashes of pleasure seared through her mind and between her legs and for that moment it was pure bliss as she returned his kiss wildly, her hands pulling him closer down to her as she felt him collapse softly on top of her.

"Sansa, are you all right?" He was still inside of her but it didn't hurt as much anymore. She felt tired, boneless, sore as she looked up into his eyes.

"Yes." It was all she could manage and she wasn't quite sure what to say. She felt him move to get up but she held him fast. "Please. Not just yet."

Robb nodded, affording a glance over at the still body next to her before lying his head on her breast. No doubt he could hear her hammering heart. Sansa closed her eyes, exhausted, not willing to move. Her eyelids grew heavy as Robb slowly withdrew from her, the feeling of his leavings leaking out as he did so. He shifted to her right side, an arm embracing her midsection, his head sharing her pillow for a moment. He warned her he shouldn't linger and she burrowed into his hair, smelling, not wanting him to leave but he started to slip away from her.

"Wait." She reached out to him and he hesitated, a look of sorrow on his handsome face even as he raised his eyebrows in questioning. "We need to do something."

Robb's cock was softening but she grabbed it, all business, not trying to think about it as she wiped off the residue of her leavings; her secretions of cum and streaks of blood. Swiftly she peeled back the sheets from Harry and smeared what she could on his cock. At least it was long enough for it to have the desired effect.

Robb turned away and nearly sprinted off of the bed, his back towards her as he sauntered behind the screen to dress. Sansa scooted away from the spot of blood and cum on her white bed sheet and stared at it. It seemed so surreal. Her brother took her maidenhead next to her comatose husband on their wedding night and she just wiped the evidence on her husband's cock. How did she become so deviant? And why did she just not care?

She shivered. With Robb's warmth gone and the hearth grown cold she debated on moving closer to Harry. But she couldn't, not with Robb still in the room. It was too much of an intimate, affectionate act. It would be far kinder to fuck him than to instigate a cuddle.

Robb emerged, buttoning up his tunic. He did not look at her but instead turned to look out the window, his arm raised as his hand rested against the frame. It seemed he was deeply concentrating on the mountains in the dark of night but Sansa knew he was bothered. Silently she slipped out of bed stark naked and padded over to stand behind him in the shadows. The tapers were becoming low now, and some already had snuffed out.

"I cannot bear this, Sansa." He spoke so softly she strained to hear. "We need to take back Winterfell now, and you need to come home with me."

She wanted to speak of her plans and schemes and her own desire to be the Lady of Winterfell, but before anything could leave her mouth she heard a rustling of sheets.

"Uhhh... Sansa?" 

Sansa tuned in horror as Harry struggled to sit in an upright position, the white sheet bunched up around his waist as he looked around in confusion. Robb slipped behind the screen - there was no means for escape; if he went towards the door they would be caught and there would be no good excuse for Robb to be in their rooms with Sansa naked in front of him.

"Harry, my husband! You're awake!" Sansa winced at the shrillness of her voice as she scampered over to her husband's side of the bed.


	3. Behind The Screen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovely GIF moodboard made by sansafeels... thanks! This is lovely!  
> Link:
> 
>  
> 
> <https://meltingflakes.tumblr.com/post/181915828216/the-moon-tower-secret-alayne-stone-is-revealed-to>  
> 

Sansa's heart beat madly and her mouth immediately went dry as she stood naked as her nameday in front of her groggy husband, scared and panicked but sufficiently ashamed to be so bare before him. 

"I - I was on my way to wash and - and retrieve my shift." 

She turned and scampered behind the privacy screen where Robb sat on the tiny stool thoughtfully placed there to make washing and dressing easier. Behind him lay a wash basin, rag, and a pitcher of water on top of hot coals. His eyes burned with worry and she knew hers did the same as he reached back to grab the wash cloth.

"Wash?" Harry's voice carried loudly over the generous screen. "You smelled so sweet in the High Hall when you became my wife and even more so when we danced. I could barely hold off from carrying you to bed before our wedding feast. "

Robb grimaced slightly and Sansa plucked the soft rag from Robb's hands. Her heart went out to him having to listen to Harry's talk of wanting to possess her, but they were in a precarious situation and she could not afford to be emotional.

"I meant to wash myself to be more presentable for bed." She tried to ignore Robb's hands smoothing over her hips and belly. She shivered in longing even as irritation formed around her edges of desire. Robb should be concerned about how to slip out without being seen, not touching her intimately."I cannot clean the sheets but I at least can clean myself."

"The sheets. Why would - oh, Seven Hells!" Harry's shout was enough to provoke a small jump out of her. She snatched her robe from its hook and hastily threw it on, trying to tie the laces as she whipped out from her hiding place.

Harry had thrown the covers back and he was staring at his cock. Sansa would have laughed at the sight if her and Robb's situation wasn't so precarious. He glanced over at her side of the bed, his arm reaching over so long fingers could swipe over the slight show of blood and semen.

"My Lord?" All faux concern, she neared the bed.

"There's - there's -"

"Blood? Yes. Surely you know what happens when a maiden submits to her husband on their wedding night."

"I - I've never bedded a maiden before," he muttered, the horror leaving his face. "And apparently I was too far gone in my cups to remember it."

"Oh, it was over quickly, my Lord." Alayne's wit and mockery came through, masking her fear and sympathy for Robb. "A small prick and it was done."

The jest was lost on Harry and Sansa was not surprised. He normally loved a good joke as long as he was not the subject of it, and no doubt he was still trying to recover from being drugged. She almost pitied the look on his face; one of regret and disappointment. Of course. He has been chomping at the bit to fuck her since they had their first dance. He doubted she had her maidenhead intact when she was Alayne but he still never tried to force himself on her; yet when he discovered she was Lady Sansa Stark, he sought to protect her innocence until their wedding night at all costs. It had been hard to have private conferences with Lord Baelish then, but Sansa found she did not need any more counsel at that point. Besides, she rather liked Baelish not being able to corner her alone, a situation that never left her comfortable.

"Was I good?" There was doubt behind his question as he turned to look at her. "Did I hurt you?"

The vulnerability in his light blue eyes was something new. He was always such a braggart when it came to his skills as a lover and how he was the most desired man in the Vale and even beyond. She always thought of him as a rooster crowing his worth and now it was odd to see him appear almost contrite.

"It is common to bleed." She shrugged as if it were of no importance as her brother's seed trickled down her inner thigh.

"Bleeding portends pain or affliction in my experience." Harry started to rise from the bed.

"What - what are you doing?" She tried to remain calm as she padded over to the side of the bed, wringing her hands. "My Lord -"

"I think we are past _my Lord_. Harry is fine, Sansa. Formalities are not for the bed." He groaned a little and looked up as her hand met his broad shoulder. "I only meant to retrieve the wash basin and rag -" 

"Allow me to bring it to you." Trying to quell the nervousness, Sansa scurried back to Robb, whose face now was unreadable. She only afforded him a glance - if she let herself look for longer she would lose her determination - before placing the pitcher in the basin. Robb tossed the rag in and she lowered her eyes from his fiery stare, carrying the items back to the bed and setting the tiny tub next to Harry. He had managed to swing his legs over the side; feet planted firmly on the fur rug beside him and shoulders slightly hunched as his fists dug into the mattress.

With trembling hands she poured water into the basin. It was lukewarm at best as she dabbed the cloth in. 

"This may not be very warm," she warned, before reaching down to wipe the small smudges of her blood and Robb's secretions from Harry's cock. It wasn't much - all of it was off in one swipe - but it was enough for his cock to twitch and she was thankful for the semi-darkness to hide her blush. A warm hand stilled her from making any more movements.

"No, Sansa, that's not what I meant. I wanted to help clean you up."

"Oh." She let Harry pry the cloth from her hands; he rinsed it in the water. "You don't have to. I - I thought maybe you could take a moment if needs be to use the privy or maybe if you were hungry - I mean, if you drank so much you cannot remember anything maybe you could seek out the Maester and -oh -"

Sansa bit her lip as Harry untied her sash, letting the robe fall open to expose herself to him. He easily slid the rag in between her legs. It felt colder than when she used it on him and as he wiped away Robb's leavings she could not help but close her eyes as his other hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer while he opened his legs far enough apart to move her forward to him. His head bowed and rested against her belly and she could feel his breath warming her center in contrast to to the cooling cloth dragging slowly against her folds and down her thighs. It was wrong, her husband cleaning her of the mess she and her own brother made, but she took the guilt and shoved it away to worry over at another time. A faint whimper escaped and she reminded herself it was her duty to submit to her husband as he finished his task, allowing her eyes to open only after the cloth no longer touched her intimately.

She did not feel clean as he stood, so tall and toned and far too pale in the flickering of the dimming light and she could not help but travel her eyes down his chiseled chest to his tapered waist and his now erect cock. It jutted upwards, long and smooth, as oddly smooth as the pubic hair surrounding it. Robb had prominent veins and was thicker, but Harry's was ample and - well, she shouldn't compare. She should focus on getting Harry out of the room long enough for Robb to slip out, or at least distract Harry to where he was facing the opposite way. Noise, maybe make some noise, draw the drapes around the bed, anything. Robb could not stay the rest of the night, he couldn't. It would tear him apart.

"You are beautiful. I was robbed." He yanked her robe off, the muscles in his arms flexing. "I was good. I was so good. Patient. I waited for this night and now I can't even remember it."

Sansa balled her hands into fists as she fought the urge to try to shield herself from his hungry stare. He drank her in but it was a predatory gaze. Robb always looked upon her with deference, even in the most heated of moments, but behind Harry's eyes there were only lusty intentions. She may now be his wife but she would still be his finest conquest. Little did he know that his triumph was no victory at all. She tried to harden her heart, just as she always did with him any time he seemed to chip away at her resolve. Handsome Harry was no more than Harry The Arse and she always must keep her plans in her sights.

But then Alayne never had Harry naked, aroused, and dropping to his knees in front of her.

"This cunt is mine now and I cannot even recall what it feels like to be in it." He sounded almost angry as he clutched her hips with both hands and pulled her into his face. 

Yours only in name, only in name, she thought. It will never truly be yours. Never -

It was as if the wind was knocked out of her and she gasped out at the shock. She would have buckled under if it was not for her fingers clawing into his sandy blonde hair and hard shoulders. There was no warning, no soft preamble, no building up of sensations. No, this was instant and demanding as his hands skimmed over her thighs before pushing her legs farther apart and shoving his tongue down into her folds, starting a furious rhythm. It was too much at once but maybe it wasn't enough and she bit her lip to stop from crying out. Robb. Robb was here. In this room. She would not burn his ears with sounds of pleasure given to her by another man. For Harry was, undoubtedly, giving her pleasure and she hated to admit it, even as his tongue speared inside of her. It was wet and soft yet he moved it in such a way that she could not help but gyrate forward. It was like he was making love to her with this tongue and through her soreness she found a familiar buildup forming. Panic and pleasure collided as her conscience pricked behind her eyes.

What was Robb thinking now? Was he angry? Sad? Bitter? Jealous? She did not know and she did not want to know. Robb knew she had to sleep with Harry, had to submit to him as a wife does, but then again he probably never thought he would have to bear witness to it.

Thoughts were jumbling, tumbling in her head and went out completely when Harry removed his tongue only to insert two of his slim, elongated fingers slowly into her cunt and she let out a tiny, breathy moan. She rationalized by the slick sound that seemed to echo in the room that she was wet from Harry's saliva and what remained of Robb's secretions but she knew better. She wanted his fingers inside, no matter how sore she was. His motions were languid at first but when his mouth latched onto the delicate nub while his fingers fucked her, it was too much and she did cry out then. There was a low, throaty chuckle as Harry worked faster, his mouth now intermittently free and he was muttering intelligible things into her, the vibrations stimulating her as well with every given lick. She couldn't hear his words - or she didn't want to; she could only give in, and gave up any resistance to do so. Clutching deep into his scalp and his shoulder, she bit her lip and silently came. Perhaps her heartbeat could be heard from across the room but she made sure her voice could not. 

Her parted lips gave away nothing but silence but Harry was an experienced man. As soon as she stopped pulsing into his mouth and and around his fingers, he moved his head away. He rewarded her with a odd frown when she dared to look down into his intense eyes, his eyebrows furrowing together as he withdrew his fingers and stood, his mouth glistening from a mixture of fluids. 

Without any warning, his lips crushed down on hers and she kissed him, acutely aware of their naked bodies pressing together. She could taste a bit of everything; his saliva, Robb's cum, her cum, even her blood. His tongue was permeated with the flavors as it insistently sought her own and she gave in to the rough kiss, daring to bite down. Harry didn't cringe; rather, his response was to break away only to pick her up like he had in the Hall and fling her down onto the bed.

Sansa shrieked unexpectedly as she hit the mattress with Harry climbing on top of her, his arms supporting his weight as he jammed his fists into the sheets on either side of her head. For a moment she shrank from him but then his cocky smirk appeared. For some odd reason she had grown to like that smile when it was directed at her and strangely enough with him naked and aroused above her it was even more appealing.

"I will hear you take pleasure in me, my Lady, one way or another. It is nearly all I had thought of while you kept me at arm's length."

"I think we are past my Lady, are we not?" She attempted to be jocular and mocking of his own previous statement over titles as she nervously tore her gaze away from his stare to look towards the privacy screen. Harry was facing away now. Robb could slip past the bed and out the solar door; the bolt had locked with ease and could be unlocked with little noise to alert them of his presence. 

"Indeed. And I am well past my gentlemanly restraint. Sansa." 

The feel was indescribable as she felt him push inside of her, his cock immediately buried to the hilt. She was sore from Robb but she was also sensitive and she did cry out then, but not from pain. Still she did not want Robb to think her hurt. He would kill Harry where he hovered in an instant if he thought his beloved sister was coming to any harm, and maybe he would want to kill him on principle anyway. Robb needed Harry, as much as he refused to admit it. Robb had the fighting experience and strategy but Harry had the numbers and the support of other Houses. She did not need Harry but in this moment, she gasped with the knowledge that she wanted him.

"See? My wife can make sweet noises after all," he rasped. While his voice unsteady but his thrusts were not and Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his nicely shaped arse. Her arms soon reached up to pull him even closer to her so she could whisper in his ear.

"Harder, Harry, please." Her words had the desired effect as he slammed into her. His breath was becoming more labored. She raised her voice even as she felt like screaming, the pain increasing through her already tender center but at the same time the pleasure had returned. "Harry -"

"Your cunt is perfect, Sansa. So perfect. I want to hear you come apart on my cock. I need to hear it. Mine, all mine -"

"Mmm. Yes, yours -" She concentrated on his words, some foul mixed with sweet as he went on, but her words died when Robb emerged from the screen, slipping silently past the canopied bed.

He was surrounded by fading candlelight and he paused near the foot of the bed. His face flickered in a glow and then darkness, glow then dark again, intermittent but she looked over Harry's shoulder to catch his stare. It struck her to her core, the way his eyes burned into her with fury and disgust and she wondered if he hated her, despised her for enjoying her husband. Sansa wanted to cringe and die, cry and beg his forgiveness, but Alayne was defiant. Why should she not enjoy the delights of her own marital bed, just as he had? Here she had a fine looking man, a man no doubt willing to go to war for her, while Robb let her rot in King's Landing -

"Harry, my husband. Would you fight for me? Die for me?" Her hand slipped down between their bodies to brazenly rub on her clit. Harry groaned at her action, nipping into her throat.

"I would do anything for you, for this tight little cunt." He tried to pull up but Sansa clasped her other hand to the back of his neck, holding him close to her while her eyes never left Robb, who seemed frozen. She wanted to burst into tears at the hopelessness of Robb and their own passion but she also wanted to scream in her newfound elation of Harry's prowess.

"Would you never leave me? Never abandon me or our bed?" It didn't matter his reply. She knew whatever came out of his mouth could be a falsehood said in the moment of passion but she wanted to hear it anyway. She wanted Robb to hear the answer and feel shame, just as she was shamed by her brother watching her fucking another man.

"Never. Always. Mine, you're mine -" He buried his face into her neck. "Cum for me, I need you to -"

She was starting to peak, straining to meet Harry's demanding thrusts, feeling his body becoming slippery with a sheen of sweat that matched her own. He was a means to an end and she clung to him, both hands holding on for dear life as she never broke her locked gaze with Robb. Even from where she lay she could see the muscle flexing in his jaw and the constricting of his throat. It was easier to resent him in this moment than it was to desire him but she imagined him possessing her this way, taking her with an unabashed lust. It was enough to tip her over the edge and she cried out, her nails scraping long, deep marks into Harry's shoulders, cumming to Robb in front of her and Harry inside of her. She moaned out her affirmation and her eyes fluttered while flashes of pleasure reached down into the tips of her toes.

In the middle of her cries and Harry's filthy-worded shouts of praise, Robb turned away and stealthily stalked to the solar door, fumbling with the lock before slipping out. The door creaked but Harry did not seem to hear as caught up as he was in his own impending orgasm and Sansa sighed in what Harry thought was passion but she knew was truly relief.

With Robb safely gone she could focus on her husband now. She spurred him on by gyrating her hips to meet his wild strokes, even though she was coming down from her high and was acutely aware of how sore she truly was. Every push elicited a small moan from her lips until Harry moved to kiss her almost tenderly this time. In response her hands snaked up into his straight, wheat-colored hair, pulling slightly. It did something to him because he groaned into her mouth and she felt him spill inside of her, throbbing several times in quick succession.

She hadn't meant to let him release inside of her. She has resolved to fight tooth and nail to prevent it so there would be no question as to who the father of her child would be. Still, Robb had been first and if she were to bear a child from this night, it would be Robb's. She was sure of it.

Harry was surprisingly gentle as he pulled out of her. Fluids leaked onto the sheets beneath her and she shuddered a little. Her well-fucked cunt was stinging now and her abdomen was aching. She let Harry gather her into his arms as he laid back and took her with him. It felt odd to lie up against him but he had a broad chest and solid biceps and there was something genuinely secure about his arms wrapping around her.

_Tomorrow..._

Tomorrow they would break their fast in the Morning Hall. She would sit primly next Harry on her right and Robb on her left with her memories of them both replaying vividly in her mind. Tomorrow, she would talk with Harry privately in their rooms after breakfast and press for the retaking of Winterfell. Strike while the iron is hot. There was no more time for subtleties and Harry had the Vale now. She was sure if she kept Harry in the throes of passion she could make him do anything for her, even charge into battle and a possible death if it meant there was the promise of being between her legs again. Perhaps she could even have Harry dispose of Lord Baelish somehow, but reclaiming her and Robb's home was what she desired most. She anticipated a confrontation with Robb about the scene that transpired before him but there was nothing that he could say. Harry was her husband and she could not refuse him on his wedding night. Honesty forced her to admit she had not wanted to refuse him anyway -

Sansa smiled against Harry's chest and allowed herself to relax in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually enjoyed writing a Sansa/Harry and now I have new ideas for the pairing. I wanted to develop this into a full fic but I need to get on with finishing the WIPS I have. Thanks for reading and comments are appreciated, as always.  
> Find me on Tumblr : sohereweare1


	4. Underneath The Facade

"This surely is becoming embarrassing to you, Lord Arryn. The Defender Of The Vale cannot even win a sparring match against one man."

Harry jumped back onto his feet - well, stumbled was the better word for it, with the new armor pieces hampering his movements, and it wasn't even full armor like Robb - and threw off his helmet with one hand while gripping his sword in the other. He glared at his opponent standing there so cocky and sure of his fighting skills, clad in well-worn full armor and sans helmet, his russet-colored waves of hair shining in the sunlight. 

"Aye, maybe, but not quite as embarrassing as tucking tail and hiding behind the Vale's skirts because one cannot keep a promise."

His retort was a good one and he was instantly rewarded with a sudden lunge and attack, but he was prepared for it and the swords met in a duel tune. Harry knew how to get under Robb Stark's skin and took pleasure in knowing his wit surpassed the Northern Dolt's. Robb might be better at fighting and dancing and charming those around him, but his comebacks lacked a smart sting to them. Harry knew it struck at Robb's pride how low he had fallen and the jab was sharper than any blade.

Robb was also stronger and Harry hated the laboring of his breath against Robb's steadiness. Maybe shutting up and saving his breath would have helped, but it was customary to fall into japes with his brother-in-law. It wasn't that he disliked Robb, not really. Sure, he was a bit jealous of his good looks and renowned family name and the way some still looked at him as a legend on the battlefield, but he could appreciate him as family now that he was married to his sister. Well, for the most part. He just didn't appreciate being bested by him during training. 

"At least I'm a seasoned warrior and didn't have childish tourneys fixed in my favor while I was more interested in fathering bastards -"

Harry put all of his strength in his attack, both physical and verbal, swinging his sword so violently and stepping so forcefully he felt as if his limbs were on fire.

"Better than breaking a political promise to ensure I never had a bastard in the first place." Oh, he wasn't done yet. "And better than keeping my bastards in the Eyrie where my wife would be forced to live with it every day -"

That brought a growl to Robb's lips, his cocky half-grin dissolving into barely contained anger as he abandoned any restraint and came at Harry with everything he had. Anger always clouded a man's judgement, especially in fighting, and Harry was almost sure he could win this match. Daring to say anything derogatory about the revered Eddard Stark surely hit the mark. For the first time, maybe he could best Robb Stark.

Obviously arrogance was also an impediment to winning. He misjudged the other man's lack of control and somehow he lost his balance against the onslaught, falling backwards into the muddy ground, his polished armor now dirtied.

A slow clapping distracted Robb as Harry once again scrambled to his feet and both of them turned towards the sound. Petyr Baelish two steps ahead of Lord Royce, looking rather smug in his typical fashion. Dressed all in black with his silver pin gleaming in the sunlight, he smirked and stopped clapping to stroke his annoyingly pointed beard, and Harry knew a stream of insincerity was coming. Lord Royce looked as disapproving as ever, but Harry knew the look was not for him. 

"The gallant Lord Arryn and the Young Wolf! I trust your skills are improving, my Lord?" 

"Better by the day, Lord Baelish." Harry bent down to sweep up his abandoned helmet, trying not to gasp for breath and failing. "Perhaps you should try wielding a sword sometime. Lord Stark is a fine mentor."

"I prefer a battle of minds, Lord Arryn." Harry didn't miss the dismissive tone, inferring Harry was a simpleton. Perhaps it was better if Littlefinger viewed him as such and he did not press on with the discussion. Being Lord of the Eyrie had some attributes.

"Lord Royce, I must speak with you. Please, Lord Baelish, excuse us." He afforded a quick nod to Robb who glowered at him as he bowed curtly and turned on his heel to jauntily walk away (well, he hoped it looked jaunty), patting Yohn on the broad shoulder.

It was a short walk across the courtyard and into the castle, where Harry barked an order to have a hot bath readied immediately while he started to tear off his armor. A young steward scampered to the rescue as Harry flopped down on a bench in the hall, sighing from relief. 

"You wish to speak to me?" Yohn's voice boomed and echoed as his bushy eyebrows raised in questioning.

"Why is that man not yet gone?" Harry's fingers toyed with the edge of his helmet before handing it to the lad and shooing him away. He waited until he was out of sight, struggling with the cumbersome armor pieces without complaint. "I'm giving him all he wants, though the gods only know why. If we lose -"

"The Lords Declarant has wanted him gone since before Lord Robert's death. And I wanted him gone the moment he set foot in the Eyrie. We must bide our time. Once Winterfell is reclaimed we can send him packing."

"Aye, maybe Tommen Baratheon and his bitch mother will have his head."

"Littlefinger is too clever for that, my Lord. He has always had the innate ability to win all's favor while siding with none. It is how he survives. You must realize regaining Winterfell has some sort of advantage to him. He is the reason Sansa was Alayne, he's the reason Lord Stark is here. They are well protected here -"

"My wife's protection is paramount." He voice softened. "As is her family's. I wish we knew of her other brothers and her sister. She believes them dead." The news of Arya at Winterfell had been short-lived when it was discovered the girl was not who she claimed to be.

"The focus now is the reclaiming of Winterfell, my Lord. Not just for the Starks, but for a vantage point. If Lord Stark and Lady Arryn regain control, we will have the North, the bannerman will rally. The Vale, the Riverlands -"

"Lord Baelish pulled us into a war we had no part in to begin with. How long has it been since The Knights Of The Vale have ridden into battle? They are all now as seasoned as I am."

"The knights are still the finest in all the Seven Kingdoms." Lord Royce puffed his chest and stood to his full height. "They will have no problem against the likes of the Boltons and Freys."

"And what of the King? A major victory for Winterfell is choosing a side that is not in the King's favor."

"The King is young and a puppet, my Lord, but he is no tyrant like his brother before him. Let Lord Baelish placate the Queen Regent."

"And what if he is not only playing her, but _us_ as well? What if we are also his puppets?"

Politics was not Harry's strong suit. Playing at gallantry, seducing women, dancing and enjoying the finer things, those were the areas he excelled; at least, they were until Sansa entered his life as Alayne. While she withheld her sexual favors from him she instead freely shared her mind, her wit, her intellect. She was smarter than any woman he had ever known, and when he courted her he found himself looking forward to their picnics by Alayne's Tears, the romantic waterfall offsetting the serious discussions. Truly, he admitted he fell in love with Sansa's mind while he had foolishly at first thought she was nothing more than a beautiful face and body. His discovery of her true identity happened before it was officially revealed and yet it mattered not. As Alayne Stone or Sansa Stark, he had found a reason to mature and be a man. Now she was the reason to prove himself in a battle for her family home.

It also meant he never took anyone at face value anymore.

"No one desires his absence more than I." Lord Royce glanced around before seating himself on the bench, stretching his long legs out. "For more reasons than you could ever know."

"I do not believe Lady Arryn wants him here, either. His influence over her has weakened ever since she revealed herself as Sansa Stark, and perhaps even before then. It seems unnatural, his interest in her."

"Aye. He was in love with her mother. He helped her escape King's Landing, so there is that. But again, the plan was useful to him."

"I wonder why he did not marry and bed her himself." He mused it quietly, and maybe he hadn't meant to voice it but he did.

"He had not the support of the Vale, my Lord. I believe maybe he meant for Sansa to marry her cousin, but he died before it could happen." As if the conversation was too much, Yohn cleared his throat and patted him softly on the shoulder. For such a large and brusque man, it was an odd gesture.

"Your bath should be ready by now, my Lord."

 

*******************

 

Sometimes there was nothing better than a hot bath to relax the mind and limbs and Harry felt refreshed as he made his way to the Lord's Chambers. Robb's brutal training seemed to melt away along with the dirt and sweat and the spring in his step returned as he held his loose white linen shirt up to sniff in approval. Ever since Sansa became the Lady of the Eyrie, the laundress had improved her washing skills. Even his dark breeches seemed to feel better against his freshly scrubbed skin.  
He entered the chamber and grinned, shutting and bolting the door behind him. Beyond the cozy table set for two and the four poster bed, Sansa perched on her mahogany bench facing the vanity. He had the set specifically carved for her in a nod to her Stark heritage with running direwolves scenes depicted along the trim. It was part of her wedding gift, along with the jewels he bestowed upon her. 

Sansa turned after setting her silver brush down and as usual he was struck by her beauty. Her hair fell in waves down her back and her creamy skin seemed to glow, her eyes large in her slim face. She wore a simple gown of pale yellow and no finery graced her neck or hands. He loved her best like this. She was a vision and he knew any man would wage a battle for her, even if that man had no actual fighting experience and had never been on a battlefield. 

Even if it meant dying. 

"Back so soon from training? I thought to have more time to dress for dining."

"Actually, I've been done for awhile. I soaked in a hot bath until I wrinkled like an old woman."

"Oh." She smiled prettily. "I had assumed it went so well, Robb reduced your time."

"Littlefinger arrived and wanted to speak with him. I left." 

Her face remained impassive as she rose and Harry felt a spark of desire along with frustration. Sansa could always wear a mask and he could never see what was behind the facade and he wondered where she had learned to hide emotions from her face. Was it in King's Landing, where she was beaten and mentally abused by a psychopath while being surrounded by enemies and spies? Or was it Lord Baelish, teaching her his ways of duplicity? Or was it from an earlier time where she was trained to be a proper lady?

Harry shrugged and sat on the edge of their bed, tugging his boots off. He tossed them aside and wriggled his toes. 

"What did Lord Baelish say to Robb?" She was quiet, seemingly detached and making simple conversation as she smoothed out her hair and approached him. He could smell her. Her scent was as sweet as the lemon cakes she favored.

"I didn't stay to find out. I needed a bath to soak my body. I wouldn't be doing this for anyone else, you know. Punishing my body in the hopes for glory and success in battle. Though I daresay Robb enjoys torturing me." He reached up to touch a silky wave. "I don't want to talk about your brother. We have time for a more pleasant way to pass the time, do we not?"

It was a question made husky by his own wants but a question just the same. The early days of their courtship was a learning process for him and he found with Alayne he could not demand favors. He could not persuade or cajole or pout with her like he did with Cissy and Saffron, using his title and looks to charm them into relenting and spreading their legs. Not that Sansa has refused him since their marriage. Perhaps the rights of the husband had been ingrained into her at a young age. Harry had no idea what a mother tells her daughter but he suspected it fell in line with the custom that no wife should refuse her husband's rights. Still, as Alayne she conditioned him to wait for her decisions and anticipate any scraps of liberties she felt like allowing, and as a husband he did not see a need to press his rights. At least, not yet.

His eyes traveled to her belly and his hand soon followed. It was so flat and svelte under the silk. He wondered how he would feel when he finally puts a babe in her. Would he still desire her if she ended up like Cissy? If she gave him a son, he supposed it wouldn't matter. A legitimate heir was needed and she was his wife. She could be three times the size of Cissy but her place would forever be secured as Lady Arryn. He thought of her finding lovers of her own due to his neglect and found his blood boiling. The thought of her in another man's bed, fat or not, was something he could not tolerate -

"I want to put a babe in you," he muttered, smoothing over her stomach, both hands now clutching at her gown as he looked up at her, trying to read her face which was as still as stone. It wasn't the best thing to say but it was on his mind.

Her slim hands caressed his and gently pushed them away before reaching up to begin unlacing her dress. His breath caught.

Perhaps there was something even better than a hot bath after all.

"Sansa -" Was he really going to apologize for saying that?

"Take me to bed."

It was barely a whisper but it was all he needed to sweep her up and carry her to their bed, but when he joined her, helping to finish disrobing her while shrugging off his own clothes, he groaned as he tried to prop his naked body above hers on his knees and elbows. His arms and legs were still so sore and hurting but he refused to end this. 

Moving to position himself on his side up against her, it was almost an action of apology as his hand slipped down between her legs and his lips found her breast. Her little sighs of pleasure and the growing wetness around his fingers made him sick with desire to enter her, feel her long legs wrap around his waist, but he suddenly had another idea as he moved onto his back, urging her on top of him with a firm tug at her hips.

"Um -" Sansa sprawled over his body, her hair in his face, her hands slamming down on either side of his head in protest and confusion. Her face was no longer blank but uncomfortable, unsure. 

"There is more than one way to make love, my Lady." Reaching up, he pulled her face down to to his for a kiss while he shifted underneath her, prompting her to spread her legs. It was easy to smooth a hand down to grab his already hardened cock to tease her center. 

"I - I don't -" She bit her lip, looking half-innocent, half-seductive. Harry smiled in reassurance.

"It's all right, Sansa. Just move down -" He groaned again, this time not in pain as she did as she was told. Her gasp made his heart leap when she pushed down and he guided his cock slowly into her while she steadied herself by digging her fingers into his chest. Being fully sheathed inside of her was the most pleasure he's ever experienced and even though he prided himself on control, he nearly came when she pushed to an upright position, her long red hair spilling down around her shoulders and over her breasts. She was exposed, open, vulnerable, and beautiful. He could now take in the full sight of her impaled on his cock. She now had all the power with him underneath her but she froze, biting her lip, her hands leaving his chest to modestly cover her breasts.

"Like this." His arms ached a little but he lifted up a little to grasp at her hips, guiding her to move. Though inexperienced, Sansa began to gyrate sensually, and maybe he was too sensitive but he didn't need an seasoned whore to spill quickly. He just needed Sansa. 

For longevity he shifted his focus as one hand abandoned her hip to find the center of her pleasure, his newly calloused thumb and index finger rubbing and rolling her little pearl. It was easier to do than with her under him, and now he could take in the perfect vision of all of her as well. Her hand boldly shot down to guide him in a different pattern and he grinned up at her. He liked her bold; she was Alayne then, when only moments before she was Sansa. Shy and bold, passive and demanding, it was a heady combination and he couldn't help but buck up hard in approval. To his surprise she pushed down with as much ardor as he was giving, and he worked her faster as she moved faster. She threw her head back and arched, her mouth parting while she came with a little cry, so feminine and sweet his cock tightened with an impending release while he relished the wave of pulses from her orgasm.

"Sansa." Harry leaned up to pull her down to his chest, his hands moving to grasp her perfectly rounded buttocks. She squealed a little in shock - he realized he's never touched her lovely bare arse before this - but she leaned down to kiss him.

There was urgency now, a striving for his own completion as his hands became more rough, pushing her down harder on his cock, then forward again, then down. Sansa moved with him, relaxing now as her hands entwined in his silky hair. Her eyes glittered for a moment but her hair fell all around him, darkening his view, and he closed his eyes as her lips found his again and his thrusting underneath her became callous, frantic. His groan as he climaxed was swallowed by her mouth, her tongue, her magic spell that depleted him of thought and words and noise.

Had he not already been lying down he would have already collapsed.

"Sansa. Are you -"

"Yes, I'm fine. You are not, apparently." She pushed her hair away. Her face was flushed from the orgasm, her lips a darker shade of pink. She wriggled a little to adjust and Harry was sorry a man had to have a refractory time. "We could have waited, if you are that sore." 

"And what man would pass up the opportunity to enjoy you this way? I think I might start using my aching body as an excuse to this with some frequency."

He would have pouted in protest at how she disengaged herself so quickly from him but instead he merely sighed as she moved off the bed. His cock was softening but he could feel their secretions and there was some satisfaction in that. His lust satiated, he let a smug feeling creep up inside of him. He may have been beaten down in training by Robb Stark, but he just got to fuck Robb Stark's sister and make her cum. Who did Robb Stark have to warm his bed at night? Maybe he should feel sorry for him. After all, the wife he destroyed an alliance and his word for now laid in the crypts at The Craig, rumored to have been poisoned in retaliation of Robb avoiding a planned assassination attempt. No wife, no child, no home, left with only a few loyal bannermen and now at the mercy of the scheming Baelish. Taking back Winterfell was more to Robb than just taking back the family home or attempting to regain power in the North. It was to reclaim his identity, have something that was his again. 

A thought crossed his mind as he watched his wife slip behind the screen to discreetly wash herself up and redress.

Sansa was of the North. Once Winterfell was reclaimed - and it would be, there was no thought of defeat in anyone's mind - would she want to live at Winterfell? Her place was here, with him at the Eyrie, in the Vale, as Lady Arryn. But he knew how she felt about her childhood home. She would talk about Winterfell with a gleam in her eye and a wistful tone in her voice. She spoke of how she never appreciated Winterfell until she was held as a hostage in King's Landing and now it was all she wanted, to have her home back. 

He decided it was best not to approach the subject while experiencing post-coital bliss. Besides, they would be riding for Winterfell soon, and he wanted to spend the time with Sansa in other ways before he left her to ride side-by-side with her brother into battle.

Still naked, he watched Sansa emerging from the dressing screen. She looked as she did when he first entered, her silk dress smoothed and her hair in place. Her face was once more set into a perfect line of propriety, a shield, and she did not meet his eyes as she offered to help him with his clothes. When he declined, she offered up a small smile, standing meekly and watching him as he slowly dressed.

When he offered his arm to walk to supper, he didn't miss the spark in her eyes; a contrast to her decorous facade.


End file.
